


Here & Now

by butterflycell



Series: A Whole Other Book [2]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: M/M, Minorly Cracky, mentions of minor character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-06 19:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflycell/pseuds/butterflycell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something about Harvey, something familiar that Mike kinda felt he should be able to work out. When his douchey fellow associates decide his life needs to be a little less colourful, things start to slot back into place - Past Chapters should be read first</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for labouring the point, but hop over to [Past Chapters](http://archiveofourown.org/works/399244) and have a read (if you haven't already!) as this is a direct follow on from Mike's POV - you kinda need to know the premise if this is going to make any sense!
> 
> Also, this hasn't been beta'd for Americanisms so I apologise in advance if I've missed something - just call me out if you notice anything!

If Mike had been on edge as he was lead into the interview room, that was nothing compared to how he felt as the weed spilled out onto the floor. His gut had already been telling him that it was a bad idea to talk to this Mr. Specter, but he was convinced that having a briefcase of high-grade pot with him would be catastrophic.   
  
Things had gone into slow motion as the vacuum sealed packets skittered across the carpet and he could do nothing but stare at them, then up at Specter and back down. To make matters worse, there was feeling a faint feeling of deja-vu welling somewhere behind his tongue and he couldn't pin-point it.   
  
But just as he'd started to focus on it, time had sped right back to normal and then some – and before he fully knew what was happening, he was memorising a list of things to do over the next week and his deja-vu was all but forgotten.   
  
*   
  
_When Mike was six, a few months after his parents' funeral, his Gram to him to see a doctor. It wasn't for anything serious, but it had become clear to Mary Ross that her grandson was struggling with everything that had happened.  
  
He never spoke about anyone from his old building or his old school and when she mentioned someone, he looked at her a little blankly before changing the subject – even when she tried to ask him about those two nice boys who'd lived down the hall from him and his parents.   
  
The doctor told her that he had an eidetic memory and what was happening was tied to it. The memories were likely just too painful and vivid for his six year old brain to cope with. He didn't have any trouble remembering his parents, but he had so many memories of them that the emotions they brought up were all he could deal with. Everything else had just been left at the wayside. Only time would tell whether they were permanently lost, but she really shouldn't worry, he was coping with his grief remarkably well.   
  
Mary took Mike home that evening and made him his favourite macaroni cheese for dinner. Mike hugged her extra hard before she turned out the light that evening. _  
  
*   
  
For the first couple of weeks at PearsonHardman, Mike's nerves had been shot to hell. He was sure he would be found out at any moment and chased from the building by security guards – although it never did happen, at least not yet.   
  
He worked harder than he'd ever thought was possible and, as the weeks turned into months, he found his confidence growing. He was good at what he was doing and he enjoyed it. He enjoyed the cases, the research, he enjoyed the satisfaction at the end of a deal and he enjoyed working with Harvey. Yes, he was a dick sometimes, but he was also the most intelligent person Mike had ever had the fortune to meet and he was free of almost all the pretentions that seemed rife in the rest of the firm.   
  
Harvey wasn't just intelligent, he was _smart_. He was polished and primed like every other lawyer, but underneath there was a knowledge of the way the real world worked, not just the one inhabited by Harvard graduates and the clients. He knew his sports intimately and his approach to things spoke of a history that maybe wasn't as easy as those around him.   
  
There was something familiar about him, though Mike wasn't entirely sure that it wasn't just wishful thinking on his behalf. It wasn't until something exceptionally unimportant happened at around the seven month mark that things started to slot back into place.   
  
Louis had called him to his office one afternoon, right as he'd been in the middle of proofing one of the most poorly constructed merger deals he'd seen so far. He'd had to construct a new system of coloured highlighters to cover the various areas of problems and the document was starting to look a little like a kid's colouring book.   
  
Still, he'd capped the marker he was using and followed Louis out of the bullpen, listening dutifully as he rattled on about something that was vastly unimportant. He flexed his fingers in and out of fists as he waited for Louis to get to the point – which turned out to be that wouldn't need the files he'd given him earlier, wrapped in multiple layers of preening and self-congratulation. That was fine by Mike, he hadn't even touched them yet, and in the least offensive way possible, he edged out and back to his desk.   
  
As he turned the corner, he was aware of half a dozen eyes turning to him, anticipation practically oozing from them. He walked calmly to his desk and, lo and behold, his highlighters were gone. He sighed and rolled his eyes.   
  
He paused for a moment, running through his options and settled on picking up his pencil and a variety of biros to finish the document off. His highlighters _really_ weren't worth the hassle of confronting the others and the fall-out that would inevitably consume the next few weeks. They weren't new and a couple of them were running out anyway – he'd just pick up a new pack at the weekend.   
  
He finished proofing the deal a few hours later and, noting the looks of annoyance on Kyle and Gregory's faces as he passed, went through to Harvey's office to drop it off.   
  
“Is that the Denison merger?” He asked, holding his hand out without looking up from his laptop.   
  
“Yeah, it's appalling.” Mike slapped it into his grip and dropped into the chair across the desk from him.   
  
“I'm not surprised, Hatcher's attorney can barely find his way out of a disclaimer.” Mike snorted at that and Harvey glanced up, finally giving him his attention. He sat back and flicked through the merger deal and Mike noticed a smile creeping into the muscles around Harvey's mouth as he scanned over the multi-coloured pages. The now familiar feeling of slight deja-vu snuck into his mouth as he watched Harvey's reaction.   
  
He also didn't fail to notice the frown that flickered across his face as he reached the pages that marked the theft of his highlighters, but the pages kept flipping and Harvey glanced up again.   
  
“What happened to the rainbow, rookie?” He raised an eyebrow as Mike shrugged, looking down at his feet. There was an itch in his brain that he couldn't decipher, but he knew that expression on Harvey's face and he knew how he should react to it.   
  
“Oh, they're uh...” He paused, trying valiantly not to feel like a little kid caught sneaking cookies, “Louis called me to his office and when I got back they'd... gone for a walk.”   
  
He frowned slightly but looked back up at Harvey resolutely. He was surprised, however, to find a strangely soft expression on his face that was something like pity and understanding. Mike wasn't sure why, but it made a knot in his chest ease.   
  
Then the moment was gone and Harvey threw a new file at him.   
  
“I need a watertight precedent argument for my meeting tomorrow afternoon. Get Rachel to help you.” Signalling the end of the conversation, Mike got up and headed back to his desk.   
  
\-   
  
Later that night as he lay in bed, the itch in his mind started up again and he found himself recalling one of his earliest memories.   
  
He'd been sitting at the kitchen table, watching his mom cooking dinner and drawing with the ends of his pack of crayons. Almost all of them had been worn down to stubs in a matter of weeks. His dad had come home that evening and dropped something onto his pile of drawings. After a moment or two, Mike had leapt up, grabbing the mark pens and running round the kitchen to show his mom. They'd laughed so hard at him and his dad had scooped him up into a bear hug and he'd spent the entire evening drawing with the new pens.   
  
None of that was new, he'd always remembered that evening, but as the memory progressed, he was aware of something else worming its way to the front of his mind. It was something about the pens and, yes, he remembered the kids on the bottom floor asking to borrow them and not giving them back.   
  
Cookies. They'd said he could only trade them for cookies, but he didn't have any on him, so he'd raided the kitchen when his mom was in her room. It would take him a couple of minutes, tops, to run downstairs and trade them for his pens.   
  
He'd darted out of the apartment passing someone at the top of the stairs just as he landed funny on his foot and pitched forwards. He'd barely had time to understand that he was about to fall when he was jerked sharply back and set on his feet – just as the cookies tumbled out of his precariously stuffed bag.   
  
A strong hand, a gentle expression and a feeling of complete trust-- he shut the memory down sharply as he recognised Harvey's face looking down at him. Harvey as a teenager, dark blonde hair, baseball top, living down the hall from him.   
  
Mike could feel his heart hammering in his chest, a lump forming somewhere in the region of his throat and making it hard to swallow.   
  
His brain was trying to push all his long forgotten memories of Harvey to the surface, but he wasn't ready to deal with them. He wasn't ready to face this strange new reality just yet.   
  
Instead, he focussed on the past few months, the times he'd caught a strange expression on Harvey's face, even the long, calculating looks he'd found himself on the end of. He registered the familial exchanges and now acknowledged them for what they were.   
  
He rubbed the heels of his hands hard into his eyes and rolled over, determined to get a little sleep before having to face Harvey again. There was very little doubt in his mind that Harvey knew exactly who he was and had known from the moment he'd walked into that interview room as Rick Sorkin.   
  
_Shit.  
_  
\-   
  
The next morning, Mike got into work earlier than usual and spent roughly three minutes locating and liberating his highlighters.   
  
He took them and his collected research to Harvey's office and sat on the couch as he finished up the labelling of the precedents. Donna arrived about half an hour later, shooting him a look as she came into the office as well.   
  
“He wanted to see me first thing and this way, he will.” Mike said before she could even comment and he thought he saw a twitch of a smile as she took the seat Harvey usually sat in.   
  
“I see you rescued your highlighters.” She smirked slightly and Mike raised an eyebrow. “I glanced through the file and Harvey filled me in as I was typing it up.”   
  
And just like that, Mike knew he couldn't tell Harvey, not yet. They weren't ready for that conversation.   
  
\-   
  
Over the next month or two, Mike began to pay more attention, his early childhood starting to reform neatly in his mind; he could remember evenings spent reading with Harvey, nights he babysat him, high-fives as they passed on the stairs.   
  
He remembered summers in the park when his dad tried to teach him soccer and baseball, Harvey helping out when he'd finished coaching. He remembered Harvey's brother, Aaron, teaching him how to play the piano. His mom had been so proud of him when he'd shown her the tune they'd spent a whole month working on.   
  
As the days and weeks passed and the anniversary grew closer, the sad things came back to him too; the kids on the bottom floor who knocked into or tripped him whenever they could, the look on Harvey's darkening expression when Mike explained his scuffed knees. He remembered the tired, drawn look on his dad's face, not seeing him for days on end because he left early and got back late. He remembered the hug he got, from both of them, on that evening as they said goodbye.   
  
Whenever his thoughts got that close, he clamped them down and shut them away. He wasn't going to recall that night, not unless he could help it. He'd managed more than twenty years without that memory and he didn't need it now.   
  
Instead he focussed on just how fucked-up his new Harvey-senses were making him. He was no longer just noticing his reactions and the flickers of recognition and remembrance, but he was also becoming painfully aware of the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled properly. The way his grin grew slowly, or the way his whole body went still when he was pissed off.   
  
Mike found himself cataloguing what made him laugh and he was starting to get a grasp of the type of films he liked and why, thanks to the constant quotes he dropped into conversations. He could say exactly how he liked his coffee, though he refused to get his order right on principal – no coffee should be more than five words long and Mike was not his slave, though he suspected Harvey was messing him around a little with that.   
  
He'd worked out, painstakingly, what Harvey looked like when he was tired, when he'd reached the end of his concentration and needed to get some sleep. He knew how he looked when he needed to get out of a meeting before he decked the client.   
  
Mike was becoming increasingly aware of this new attachment to Harvey and he wasn't entirely sure how healthy it was. This was a guy who'd been around since before he was born, had seen – if not helped with – diaper changes and who most likely knew that sweetcorn had made him throw up until he was five.   
  
But at the same time, Harvey wasn't the same person. If it weren't for the occasional slip in his manicured façade, Mike would never be able to reconcile the easy going teenager with the slick adult who was so much more careful with his emotions.   
  
Still, after almost ten months working with him, Mike still hadn't heard him mention that part of his life. Once, very late in the day when everyone else had gone, he'd walked past Harvey's office to hear him talking on the phone with his feet propped up on his desk, about as close to relaxed at was possible. He laughed freely and Mike heard some snippet of a discussion on music and wagered Aaron was on the other end. Apart from that, Harvey Specter was a mystery and Mike was pretty sure that was just how he wanted it.   
  
\-   
  
The anniversary of his parents' deaths fell on a Friday that year. He'd deliberated for a while and finally decided to suck it up and ask for the afternoon off. He had a feeling that everything would come to light that weekend, one way or another.   
  
It was the Wednesday before by the time he'd bolstered himself enough to say anything. He gripped the files he'd finished in his hand and headed into Harvey's office with a wave to Donna as he passed.   
  
“Yes, Rookie?” Harvey looked up, a finger pressed to his lips as he looked at Mike expectantly. Mike frowned slightly before handing over the files and withdrawing a couple of feet. He shoved his hands in his pockets to stop from fidgeting.   
  
“I was wondering if I could have Friday afternoon.” Mike glanced at Harvey and the effect was instantaneous. It was a flash, barely a ghost in his expression, but Mike had learnt enough about him to read it.   
  
“Anything in particular, or do you just fancy an early start on the drinking?” Harvey cocked an eyebrow and Mike smiled slightly.   
  
“It's a family thing, but it's kind of important.” Mike stared at Harvey then, the other man meeting his gaze and lingering for a little longer than was entirely comfortable. Still, he nodded an looked back down at the files.   
  
“Fine, just let me know when you're going and make sure the Goya briefs are ready before Monday.” He flicked a hand and Mike swivelled on his heel, heading back to his desk. As he sat down, he let out the breath he'd been holding and tried not to think about how much his hands were shaking.   
  
\-   
  
Each year on the anniversary, without fail, Mike woke outrageously early, shaking and gasping at the air as a phantom dream played havoc on his system. He never remembered what it was, but the adrenaline coursing through him at around four in the morning was enough to ensure he wouldn't go back to sleep any time soon.   
  
This year was no different - but this year, four in the morning wasn't too far away from his normal hour.   
  
He sank back against the pillows and forced his eyes closed and his mind clear for a long moment. When his heart rate had settled, he pushed himself up and started to go about his usual morning routine. With any luck, he would be able to use this extra time to his advantage.   
  
He got to the office an hour early, even having stopped to get breakfast, and coffee for himself and Donna. He took his time, dropping his own drink at his desk, slinging his bag onto his chair before heading round to Harvey's office. He was about to turn the corner when he heard quiet voices coming from somewhere near Donna's station.   
  
“You've never told me to go easy on him before.” She didn't sound impressed.   
  
“Well, this is different. This is important.” Harvey replied.   
  
“Seriously, Harvey, I'll deflect any and all shit that flies in the kid's direction – and I already stop a lot of it – but why are _you_ asking?” It sounded like the conversation was going round in circles, like she'd been trying to get an answer for a while now.   
  
“Because it's _him_ , Donna.” He sounded tired. “Because if I were him, and today was the anniversary of my life falling apart, I would need all the help I could get.”   
  
There was no reply, but after a few moments Mike heard soft footsteps and the gently thunk of Harvey's door closing. He heard Donna sigh slightly and quietly went back to his desk, her coffee still in his hand.   
  
He sat down, lined the two coffees up neatly and placed his hands flat on the desk on either side. He thought things through for a few minutes, something slowly beginning to wind in his chest. He considered the drinks – Donna's just how she liked it, his own in a state that Harvey would find at least partially palatable.   
  
Eventually, he got to his feet and carried the drinks back round to Harvey's office. He handed Donna's over, smiling and resisting the urge to congratulate her on keeping all traces of pity out of her expression. Then he went into Harvey's office, setting the coffee on the desk. Harvey glanced at him, his expression almost bored.   
  
Mike paused for a moment, turned to leave before twisting back around.   
  
“You know,” He began, Harvey looking up at him slowly, “you should come with me to the cemetery later. You and my dad got on pretty well and they don't get all that many visitors these days.”   
  
He met Harvey's eyes, saw the panic hidden neatly behind his slight, carefully honed condescension, then turned away and left the office. He ignored the stare Donna levelled at him and carried straight on to his desk. With his mind clear, he pulled up the Goya briefs on his computer and got to work.   
  
Half an hour later, his phone buzzed and he opened up a text from Harvey.   
  
**_12 pm. I'll meet you outside._**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Mike's memories back, things will change and decisions have to be made.

One of the first things Harvey did once Mike had left the interview room, almost a year earlier, was find out which care facility Mary Ross lived in. He did the research himself, despite Donna's steely gaze from the other side of his office door, and had formed a full if-not brief picture of why she was there and how long for.  
  
As he left that evening, he told Donna to clear the first first hours of his afternoon the next day. She did it without a word, but he knew at some point he'd have to tell her everything. He would, of course, but he needed to get his head straight first.  
  
He hadn't felt this jumbled since the argument that had put him in Jessica's office more than fifteen years earlier.  
  
*  
  
 _“If you've got all the facts and all the evidence, you shouldn't need to pressure the witness. The truth should do that.” Harvey frowned as he hoisted his bag filled with cutlery and food onto his back. Charlie laughed next to him, Mary shooting him a look from the other side of the room.  
  
“You're thinking like a book, Harvey. People aren't books, they don't always tell the truth.” She said. Charlie stacked potato salad and bread rolls precariously in his arms and the three of them left the apartment and headed out.  
  
“But it's the _ law _.” Harvey scowled. “Lie all you want in the real world, cheat, bend the rules, whatever – but lying in court? That's wrong.”  
  
“True, but it still happens.” She smiled knowingly. They were just leaving the building, heading to the park just down the street. Laura had suggested a barbecue and Harvey's mom had agreed, offering his services as pack-horse to help Charlie. Mary was only really there to carry on their conversation. She had a formidable knowledge of the law.  
  
“Then they should get their heads beaten in with a baseball bat.” Harvey replied darkly.  
  
“There's a much easier way that means less wiping up of brains and skull fragments.” Charlie said with a grin. “All you've got to do is play the man.”  
  
“Like in poker?” Harvey replied.  
  
“Like in poker.” Charlie nodded with a grin. “You don't need their tick or their tell - you need to know where to push. Do your research, find their weak spot, and press until they're begging for mercy.”  
  
“You can be so crude sometimes.” Mary chipped in, though Harvey didn't miss the pride in her voice. “But Charles is right, Harvey. You just need to know the weak spot in their armour.”  
  
“And press until it hurts.” Harvey grinned, Charlie nodding his approval before turning his attention to a four year old Mike, canonballing towards them from across the park. _  
  
*  
  
Harvey had prepared himself in every way he thought necessary by the time the taxi pulled up outside the care home. He'd called ahead for an appointment with Mrs. Ross and was let in with little to no fuss. If a couple of words with the ward sister ensured that Mike didn't find out about his visit, then that was really just a bonus.  
  
He was shown through to a small bedroom where Mary was sitting by the window, reading a book. She looked up at the knock on the door and frowned at him for a second before nodding slowly.  
  
“Harvey Specter.” She closed her book on her lap and folded her hands across it. “You made it, I see.”  
  
Harvey paused for the briefest of moments, deciding how to proceed. He hadn't thought she would remember him so clearly. Finally, he smiled and stepped inside, taking the free chair she gestured towards. He sat back, slouching a little in a way that he hadn't for many years.  
  
“It's good to see you, Mrs. Ross.” He said finally, but she smiled and waved a hand for him to stop.  
  
“It's good to see you too, but how about you tell me why you're really here before you pull a muscle?” She watched him pointedly and he was reminded, rather suddenly, of Donna.  
  
“It's about Mike.” He said slowly, trying to adjust what he'd planned to say. He saw something in her face drop.  
  
“It always is.” She sighed. “What's he got himself into now?”  
  
“So you know?” Harvey asked, cautiously.  
  
“Of course I know - Michael's my grandson.” She replied. “I know about the pot, the tests – though he doesn't think I do – I know about that awful young man who calls himself Michael's friend. He's my grandson and I love him, but he's made some poor decisions about his life.”  
  
“I couldn't agree more.” Harvey finally said, swallowing past a lump forming at the base of his throat.  
  
“So why did you come here, Harvey?” She said gently. Harvey stared at her for a long moment before looking away, turning his eyes out of the window.  
  
“I ran into him yesterday and he didn't recognise me.” Mary was nodding and Harvey filed away that knowledge to deal with later. “I made him an offer and he accepted it and he'll probably tell you something about it when you next see him.”  
  
“Is this offer good for him?” She asked, Harvey meeting her eyes for a long moment before nodding, slowly. She was silent for a while before nodding in reply. “You don't want me to tell him who you are.”  
  
It wasn't a question. It was like she'd read his mind and Harvey froze again before nodding sharply. “It would be fair, and he needs to think this is a fresh page in his book if he's going to make this work.”  
  
“Well then.” She said, studying him carefully. Harvey hadn't felt so exposed for a long while and he expended more effort than normal in keeping himself calm. Eventually she smiled. “Fetch the chess set, Harvey. I want to know all about how you can afford a suit like that.”  
  
She smiled and Harvey paused for a moment to rallying himself before getting the chess set and shirking his suit jacket, settling in for a what was sure to be an ass-whooping. He left the care home a couple of hours later, desperately trying to shake the warmth growing in his chest at the resurfacing memories of his teenage years.  
  
\--  
  
The morning had been slow and stressful. Harvey had done his best to focus on the work in front of him, had taken two phone calls from high profile clients and had read through the vast majority of his vinyl sleeves in an attempt to get his mind off the thoughts simmering somewhere in the back of his mind.  
  
He'd spent a year trying to ignore them. A year trying to tell himself the comfort they afforded was fake, was all through rose-tinted lenses of sentimentality. But there was only so far Harvey could twist the truth when it came to himself. With a long sigh, he finally gave up and collected his things before heading out.  
  
Mike was waiting outside, leaning back against the car and chatting with Ray over coffee. He looked up and by the time Harvey got there, he'd pulled a third drink from somewhere and handed it over.  
  
“Afternoon, Ray.” He smiled as Ray nodded back finishing his drink before tossing the cup and getting into the car.  
  
Harvey let Mike take the lead, not saying anything as they got into the back and watching as Mike scrawled a couple of addresses on a piece of paper and handed them forwards.  
  
“Could we make a stop at the top one first, please?” He asked, Ray nodding.  
  
“Sure we can.” He smiled and turned to the front, flicking the key in the ignition and pulling out into the traffic as soon as Mike had buckled himself in. Music started to filter back, something gentle, without lyrics. Harvey was having a hard time sitting still, but was determined not to break first.  
  
A silence stretched out between them as Ray navigated the lunchtime traffic. Harvey focussed on his coffee, on anything but Mike next to him and where they were going. He could hear Mike drumming his fingers against his leg, not in time to the music, but in a pattern of some sort.  
  
It was maybe half an hour later when they pulled up outside a florist and Mike got out, assuring them he'd only be a minute or two. Harvey glanced up and met met Ray's questioning glance with a slight nod before looking back out of the window.  
  
Mike came back a few minutes later carrying a long, thin bag. He thanked Ray and they set off again. Harvey watched him play with the string handles of the bag, twisting and winding and half knotting them over and over. He wondered whether he was like this every year, or whether it was his presence that was making Mike so nervous. He didn't want to be the cause, but he was pretty sure he was. He sighed slightly, looking back out of the window.  
  
“Harvey--” Mike began, but Harvey shook his head, stopping him straight off. He glanced over briefly.  
  
“Afterwards.” He said simply, Mike nodding slowly and turning to look out of his own window.  
  
They didn't say another word for the rest of the hour long drive that took them out of the city and into the crisp autumn that had settled over the rest of the world. The seasons never properly reached the city, other than the temperature changes. Out here, the trees were turning, leaves still all shades from green to brown. Harvey had forgotten what proper nature really looked like. Central park was too enclosed to count and even Harvard had been manicured within an inch of its life.  
  
The car turned down a long road, lined on each side with thick, tall trees. The further they drove, the more detached Harvey felt. Ray pulled up in the parking lot and Harvey followed Mike as he got out. They started down a path that lead into the vast expanse of headstones.  
  
“They just have headstones here.” Mike said suddenly, a few minutes later. Harvey glanced over. “They wanted to be cremated, but Gram needed somewhere, so she put them next to my Grandpa.”  
  
“Why didn't she come with you today?” He asked, finally speaking up. Mike looked over at him, a little surprised.  
  
“Alot of the people at the home have family in here, so they visit once a month. I talked them into making a special trip tomorrow, she's not mobile enough for me to bring her on my own.” Mike shrugged a little.  
  
Harvey nodded, following and Mike veered off towards an area a little way from the tree line that edged the cemetery. Harvey stopped, hanging back just a little, when he saw the trio of stones. The largest was only ten years older than the other two.  
  
He watched, a little uncomfortable, as Mike neatly tore the bag he was holding down the side. Inside, there was a neat trio of vibrantly coloured day lilies and a couple of matching candles in glass containers. He watched as Mike twirled the flowers between his fingers for a moment before it was all too much.  
  
He turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a breath. He silently walked away. This was wrong, he shouldn't have come. This was making everything so much more _real_. This was irrevocably combining Mike with the kid he'd watched grow up. It was dangerous and it was stupid, but his chest was hurting and he could feel a headache coming on, just like he'd felt at the funeral more than two decades ago.  
  
He wandered a little aimlessly through the cemetery, occasionally stopping to read a headstone, to wonder what they'd been like, who they really were. How many of these inscriptions were true to the person they'd been? He kept his mind off Mike, as best he could.  
  
His feet took him down yet another nondescript row of headstones and through a thin copse of trees. He ignored the bark chips and compost that would no doubt be wreaking havoc on his shoes and made his way to the other side, the trees changing into a large, sheltered pond. It was about twenty metres across, filled with water plants of every kind imaginable.  
  
Something drew him closer and he found himself crouching on the pebbly edge. He looked down, fingers skimming over the stones until he saw a few that caught his eye. The pebbles were all smooth and awkwardly shaped, in varying colours of greys and sands, but there were a couple in easy reach that had a shiny white seam running down the middle.  
  
He reached out and took the roundest of them, weighing it briefly in his palm before picking up another. He got back to his feet and started to make his way around the water, keeping an eye out for more of the same stones. He found a couple more wrapped them neatly in the dumb pocket square Rene had put in his jacket.  
  
Rubbing his hands and shoving them into his pockets, he turned and retraced his steps to Mike, feeling much less at a loss that he had twenty minutes ago.  
  
When he got back to the right area, he saw Mike standing, fingertips pressed in arcs over his eyebrows, eyes closed. He'd shirked his jacket and Harvey could see goosebumps start to show across his forearms. He made an effort not to walk silently and saw more than heard Mike let out a long sigh. He looked up and round, meeting Harvey's eyes.  
  
He hadn't been crying, that much was sure, but he looked like he hadn't slept in weeks, like his bones were aching under his skin. Harvey wanted to stop Mike from hurting, but he didn't know how.  
  
“Good walk?” Mike asked as Harvey drew along side him. Harvey could smell something vaguely familiar, something from the chapter in his life that Charlie and Laura had occupied.  
  
“Something like that.” Harvey looked away, down at the matching headstones. “Why don't you head back to Ray? I'll follow you in a few.”  
  
He could feel Mike wanted to say something, but instead he nodded, Harvey catching it out of the corner of his eye. Mike pulled his jacket back on, and headed away, back to Ray and the car that would inevitably drive them towards questions with answers that weren't fully formed.  
  
This was the point of no return. The only thing Harvey had ever run away from was that little apartment in that sleepy neighbourhood. He'd run away and never looked back.  
  
He pulled out the pocket square, starting to feel more than a little dumb and he carefully polished the stones inside and crouched down. He put three along the top of Laura's headstone, three along Charlie's. As he got closer, he recognised the scent in the air. It was the perfume Laura wore, like mandarins and cinnamon. Mike must've had the orange candles by Charlie's headstone made especially. They matched the colour of Laura's flowers almost perfect.  
  
He sighed and rocked back on his heels. He pinched the bridge of his nose again for a long moment before getting back to his feet.  
  
 _I'm sorry_ , he thought, turning on his heel and heading back along the path Mike had disappeared down.  
  
By the time he got back to the car park, Mike and Ray were sitting in the car and Harvey had pulled himself back into his usual, perfectly composed self. Now they were back on his turf and playing by his rules.  
  
He got smartly into the car. “Ray, take us to Mario's.”  
  
“Yes, sir.” He smiled in the rearview mirror and set the engine going.  
  
“We're going to go eat, because I'm hungry,” He turned to Mike, who was watching him with a guarded expression, “Then we're going to get a drink and talk some of this through.”  
  
“I'm not going to argue with that.” Mike smiled slightly and turned to look out of the window just as they pulled out onto the main road.  
  
\--  
  
Mario's was a little Italian place about five blocks over from Harvey's building. It served good food, was quiet and the staff were friendly but not intrusively so. Harvey went there a lot.  
  
“Mr. Specter, good to see you again!” A grey haired man in his mid-fifties greeted them as they arrived and Harvey shook his hand with a smile.  
  
“Hi, Andy, long time.” The other man laughed and gestured for them to follow him. Mike hadn't said anything since the cemetery, but then, neither had Harvey.  
  
“Here you are.” Harvey slid into one side of his usual booth, Mike taking the other as Andy pulled out a pencil and order pad. “You wanting the usual?”  
  
“You know me too well.” Harvey grinned. “Make it extra large to split and a jug of water, please.”  
  
“Right you are.” He tapped the end of his pencil on the pad and left them to it. Harvey looked over to find Mike studying him.  
  
“You come here a lot.” He said, finally. Harvey nodded.  
  
Harvey tried to break the ice a little then, asking for a run down of the Goya briefs he'd asked Mike to finish and Mike played along, giving him a full run down of the argument he'd prepared that morning with Rachel. By the time the food came, a little of the awkwardness between them had eased.  
  
They got through the pizza in record time, not really talking, but asking the occasional mundane question. It was good, Harvey could even see Mike starting to relax, but then he was paying the bill and they were leaving, heading in the general direction of Harvey's building.  
  
“Before I ask you to come back to mine for some peace and quiet, is there anything else you want to do?” Harvey tried to speak casually, mentally kicking himself for not asking earlier.  
  
“No. I'd just go back to Trevor's and get off my face on whatever was around.” Mike scuffed a stone along the side-walk with his shoe. Harvey didn't react, just nodded and carried on walking.  
  
They were in Harvey's private elevator ten minutes later, not having broken the silence yet. They got out at the penthouse, Harvey fixed them both a drink and went to sit out on the balcony. Mike followed him, cradling the scotch as he looked out over the city.  
  
“This morning, there were a hundred things I wanted to ask you, but now I can't think of anything.” Mike said quietly. Harvey watched as Mike's jaw clenched a couple of times, his eyes now fixed on his drink.  
  
“How much do you remember?” He asked, giving him a break.  
  
“Most of it. Things have been coming back in bits and pieces for a couple of months now.” Mike sipped his drink. “It started with that one about the marker pens and the animal crackers.”  
  
“Did the highlighters thing trigger it?” He asked again, trying not to get too close to the real problem yet.  
  
“It was more your reaction to it. You knew as soon as I told you my name, didn't you?” Mike looked up then, meeting Harvey's eyes.  
  
Harvey paused for a moment, thinking back. No, it wasn't his name. “It was before that. It was the look on your face when your briefcase sprung open. Hand in the cookie jar, so to speak.”  
  
“Right, okay.” He looked away again. A silence started to stretch out.  
  
“It's not why I hired you.” Harvey said, knowing it would be the next question. “I gave you the job because you impressed me, you were interesting and I couldn't stand the idea of your brain going unused for much longer.”  
  
Mike didn't reply, just took another sip of the scotch. After a moment, he spoke. “I think I believe that. The person I am has nothing to do that kid. Those six years of my life haven't existed for me – I'm not even sure how much I believe of them now I have them back.”  
  
“I wouldn't expect you to be the same person. _I'm_ not who I was when I was six – I'm not who I was when I was _sixteen_.” Harvey had a mouthful of his drink for want of something to do. He wasn't entirely sure how much he'd open up to Mike, not right now.  
  
“Things are messed up in my head... all my life, my gram's been the only connection I had to my parents, but now you're there and _so_ many memories of them overlap with you.” Mike drained his glass and sighed. “The more I think about it, the more tangled things get.”  
  
He put the glass down on the floor between he feet, twisting it against the wood a couple of times before rubbing his forehead. “I don't want to get you tangled up.”  
  
“After I hired you,” Harvey decided to take the load a little, “that evening, I came back here and found myself thinking about part of my life that I barely even acknowledge any more. I knew you didn't recognise me, but the idea that you might brought everything back to the surface. It sounds dumb, but out of all the things I could've been forced look back on from my childhood, I'm glad it was you and your parents.”  
  
“I...” Mike began, but he sounded like he was choking on what he wanted to say. “Harvey, I'm too close this. I'm too close to _you_. I look at you and feel things I shouldn't, and I can't tell if it's something from the past or something from now.”  
  
“You can get out, if you want.” Harvey said quietly, finally voicing something he'd been contemplating for the last couple of hours. Mike head shot up and he frowned slightly. “If this is too much, I can get you out with more than enough to set up somewhere else.”  
  
“I don't want to get out. I want to be with you.” He replied calmly. Harvey felt something seize inside his chest and he forced himself to calm down, to not jump to conclusions. “You're the only person I could call a friend, you're my boss, you're my emergency contact on every piece of legal paper imaginable... You'd have power of attorney for my gram if something happened to me.”  
  
Harvey kept his emotions from his face, just keeping his eyes locked on Mike's. He didn't want to consider what exactly Mike was saying to him.  
  
“I _want_ it that way. I... I want more and I think you might too,” Mike flushed a little then, his eyebrows drawing together as he swallowed hard, “but I'm not even going to think about that until I can work out which version of you is making me feel like that. I need time to straighten this out. You've got seven months on me, after all.”  
  
Mike smiled slightly and stood up, leaving his glass on the floor. Harvey looked out over the city as Mike drew closer. He felt warmth on his skin as Mike pressed the tips of his fingers against the back of his neck.  
  
“Do you remember that night?” Harvey asked.  
  
“No. I can't think about anything after they hugged me 'goodbye'.” Mike pressed his thumb just above Harvey hairline and he suppressed a shudder.  
  
“When you've worked things through, we'll talk again. Just... don't take too long.” Harvey sighed, feeling Mike's thumb swipe down the nape of his neck before moving away, leaving cold marks against his skin.  
  
“I'll see you on Monday, Harvey.” He didn't look round, just nodded. He heard the door slide open and closed behind him.  
  
Harvey didn't move for a long time. He sat until he couldn't feel his extremities and finally got up. The sun was long gone, the New York night starting to come alive with the faint sounds of the streets below. He rolled his neck and took both glasses inside. The cemetery and the conversation, the freezing cold of high up on an October evening, they all took their toll.  
  
After a long, warm shower, he pulled on some pyjamas and climbed into bed. He closed his eyes and pointedly ignored the resurfacing memories of Charlie and Laura, of his brother learning the piano and his mom cooking dinner.  
  
That was a world way – forget being a different chapter in his life, it was a whole other book. Of course, that didn't mean there couldn't be recurring characters. Harvey didn't remember whether that was the last thought he entertained before falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There WILL be a third story in this series =) I just need a bit of time to plan and write! I hope you all enjoyed it!


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